The capital had never been quiet.
Even at night, even in winter, even during famine, there had always been sound, merchants arguing, soldiers patrolling, nobles whispering behind gilded doors.
During the night, in the cold of winter or even during times of famine, there had always been something. The shouts of merchants, the clatter of armour on cobblestones, or the occasional drunkard stumbling through dimly lit streets. Life, even in its smallest moments, made noise.
But not tonight.
Tonight was unlike anything the capital had ever experienced before.
Above the palace square, the sky looked like a fractured piece of glass.
It began as a thin line, no wider than a strand of hair, stretching from one end of the heavens to the other.
Then it deepened, widening with unnatural speed, spreading into a gaping hole of darkness.
